


Untitled

by suavebadass



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Frottage, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suavebadass/pseuds/suavebadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s barely been a week since he’s returned home, and all James really wants to do is curl up on his couch and watch reruns of The Next Generation or Doctor Who until he falls asleep with Michael sprawled out on top of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> For [waitingforwinter](http://www.waitingforwinter.tumblr.com/). Inspired by [these ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m946rqgBY91qab1qso1_1280.jpg)[two](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m946rqgBY91qab1qso2_1280.jpg) pictures.

“There you are.”

James twists his head around to see Michael looking down at him, smiling.

“Here I am,” James replies, making no effort to move.

Michael sits down next to his head and runs a hand through James’ hair, tugging on the strands teasingly and slurs out, “Are you okay? Why’re you hidin’ over here?”

Michael’s voice his rough and his accent thick from all the smoking and amount of drinks he’s had so far. When it’s like this, it sparks jolts in the pit of James’ stomach. It suddenly makes him acutely aware of the concrete slab he’s spread out on digging into his back. 

He and Michael had been invited the release party of…something or the other by one of Michael's friends. He hadn’t gotten many details out of Michael save for how rude it would be to deny the invitation along with the words ‘free food, ‘dancing’ and of course ‘alcohol’ before he’d been practically dragged over here to be bombarded with bright, obnoxious strobe lights and loud music. However between all the months of filming and press James has been doing for upcoming films, he’s tired. It’s barely been a week since he’s returned home, and all James really wants to do is curl up on his couch and watch reruns of The Next Generation or Doctor Who until he falls asleep with Michael sprawled out on top of him.




“I’m fine,” James finally says, “Just not in the party mood, that’s all.”

James watches as Michael downs the last of his drink, tossing the glass behind him in a move that Michael must think looks really savvy, but in reality it’s clumsy and off balance. James can’t help but chuckle at the sight.




Michael gets his slender frame in between the bushes next to James with ease, not caring that he’s lying in mulch and dirt and getting his clothes ruined by them. James scoots over a bit to give him some room to get on the slab and Michael goes after him. He pulls James close to turn him on his side so they’re face to face and ghosts his lips and across the shell of James’ ear, scruff scratching along James cheek in a tease.

“Mm, that’s a shame,” Michael says with a hum, grinding his clothed erection down onto James’ thigh and how did James miss  _that_  until just now.

Michael opens his mouth to start talking again. Probably to give a drunken pick up line about being ready to party maybe, but James doesn’t give him the chance and instead leans the rest of the way in and kisses him. It’s sloppy from Michael’s lack of coordination, with far too much tongue, but it’s also the kind of kiss that doesn’t have to stand on ceremony when two people have been so intimately familiar with each other for so long. Michael tastes, even smells like whiskey, along with the nicotine from the cigarettes as well. The combination is dizzying enough to James’ senses that he doesn’t notice Michael has snaked a hand down into his jeans until his cock is out from his boxers and half hard from Michael’s ministrations.

James quickly does the same for Michael, rolling them over so that he’s on top, straddling and effectively pinning Michael in place. Michael goes without protest, only biting his lip to stifle the moans that threaten to spill from his mouth when James finally gives him the friction he desperately needs. James’ pace as he grinds himself down on Michael’s cock is a languid one, there’s no need for rushing when everyone else is too wrapped up in partying to notice them gone. Michael lets out a low, impatient whine and does his best to meet in time with James’ thrust with what little movement he’s being allowed while trapped between muscular thighs.

His back is going to be sore later, there will even be a few bruises that he discovers tomorrow. Right now though, Michael is too far gone from the drinks and the amazing friction on his cock to care about anything but the present. He pulls James closer, mouthing at the pulse point on his neck and run his hands through thick hair while James works his own hands under Michael’s shirt.

“Come on, come on. You were gone for so long and I’ve missed you  _so much._ Should’ve stayed home so we could do this all fucking day  _yes_ —”

James buries his face into the crook of Michael’s neck and follows suit after a few more thrusts, griping Michael’s waist like a lifeline as he rides it out.




A red flush had spread across Michael’s face earlier, and slowly it now starts to fade. James can’t help but watch as the skin returns back to normal while he dips a finger into the mess he’s contributed to Michael’s current debauched state. Michael looks up at him with a toothy grin.

“I don’t suppose you have something we could use to clean me up?” Michael asks.

“I think I have an idea or two.” James says, licking his lips.

He moves down Michael’s body, and Michael lets out a gasp when begins licking and sucking off the come on his skin. James makes sure to be as thorough as possible, licking and nipping his way around until there isn’t a drop left on him. It’s only until Michael’s panting again, with a sizeable bite mark on his hip bone that James stops to look up back up at him.

“Ready to go home?” James grins; tucking himself back into his jeans and licks his lips again to catch the excess that’s streaking the bottom of it.

Michael almost head butts James in his excitement to get up and go, “ _Fuck yes_.”

The quickly say good-bye to the party’s host (because no matter how much of a hurry they were in, it was impossible for either of them to escape years of manners that were ingrained into them)  and make their way back onto the streets that would take them back to their flat. The air is pleasantly chilly against their skin, still heated from their earlier activities. As they walk back side by side, Michael lightly brushes a hand against James’ own, and James firmly catches it before it can sneak away. 

 


End file.
